A Midnight Conversation
by Dicere
Summary: Post OOTP, Albus needs someone to talk to. And it isn't Minerva.


Dedication:  For Cranky Cauldron, for being a friend in need for me.

*

"Lemon twist," the fifteen year old Ravenclaw said softly to the stone gargoyle.

It was past midnight, and no student should have been prowling the corridors of Hogwarts so late, but 'should' had never really applied to Luna Lovegood.

The gargoyle blinked at her in some surprise, but allowed the door to the spiral staircase to open.  It had its orders.  And Luna was always, no matter at what time, to be allowed access to the Headmaster's study.

The girl skipped up the steps even as they rose, and went through the door without bothering to knock.

"Good evening," she said calmly to the wizard who sat by the fire, staring into the flames.

"Good evening, Luna."  He didn't sound surprised to see her – but then, he never did.  "Couldn't you sleep?"

She curled up on the chair opposite his, enjoying the warmth of the flames.  "I like the castle best at night.  And sleeping seems such a waste of time, don't you think?"

He chuckled slightly.  "Well, I am still awake, so it would seem I agree.  But you should be sleeping; you are young, and need sleep more than I do."

"I can't sleep.  I can hear you."

He looked at her, a question mark in his eyes.

"Through the walls.  You're hurting yourself over something you've done."

"Ah."  He paused.  "Yes, I suppose I am, at that."  He went back to staring at the flames.

"To Harry?"

His mouth drew downwards, but he said nothing.  She sighed in exasperation.

"I can guess that much, you know.  You feel you've done something wrong to him, and he feels you've done something wrong to him, but he hates himself for hating you for doing something wrong to him, and you hate yourself for it too."  She shook her head.  'It seems like an awful lot of hate when neither of you really hates one another at all."

Dumbledore let out a long slow breath.  "You are right in many ways, Luna," he said finally.  "I do not hate Harry, nor do I believe he hates me – at least, not permanently," he conceded.  "But I must hate myself for what I have done to him; it's part of the punishment I must undergo before I can earn his forgiveness."

Luna frowned.  "I don't really see," she confessed.  "Exactly what use is it to Harry for you to hate yourself?"

Dumbledore blinked.

"I mean – is it some magic ritual?  Guilt magic?  I've never read anything on it, but if it works…" she paused thoughtfully.  "What does it do?  Does it change the situation?  Magically reversing time and space so you can make up for it?"

"No, I don't believe it does," he said quietly.

"Oh."  Luna sounded disappointed, but then brightened.  "Do you have to have a very large amount of self-hate inside you to make it work, then?  Is that what you're doing now – building it all up inside yourself so that you have the power to somehow make it all right again?"  She looked at him hopefully.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said slowly, "that there isn't such a thing as 'guilt magic' in existence.  Although sometimes I need to be reminded of that."

"Then I really don't see why you are doing this."  From anyone else the statement would have been the resolution of an argument; from Luna it was simply curiosity.  It was one of the many things he loved about her.

"There isn't a reason," he said finally.  "My guilt won't change anything; it won't bring Sirius back from the dead, nor will it give Harry the childhood that should have been his.  But I cannot let go of the guilt I have because I love Harry.  And he has lost so much.  Far too much."

"I still don't see, I'm afraid."  Luna stretched out her bare toes toward the fire.

He struggled to explain.  "I feel that by acknowledging the guilt I have, I bear with Harry a share in his sorrow.  And since I love Harry, I want to take on some of his burden."

She tilted her head to one side, plainly considering this.  "That works," she said finally.  Then another thought struck her.  "But sitting here and hating yourself isn't really helping Harry in any way, is it?"

Dumbledore had to concede she was right.  

"Wouldn't it be more useful to do something that would help Harry?"

"Such as?"

Luna frowned slightly.  "Well, I'd imagine defeating Voldemort would be good, but you're already working on that."  She absentmindedly began to nibble a lock of her blonde hair as she thought about the problem.

"Does hair taste particularly good?" he enquired.  "I've encountered quite a few odd flavours in trying Bertie Botts' Beans, but I don't remember ever encountering hair before."

"Displacement activity," she explained absently.  "I tried biting my nails, but it just made my fingers sore."  Her brow was furrowed in concentration.

"Ah."

She sighed in frustration.  "I don't know what can be done to help Harry," she admitted.  "Apart from showing him that you love him."

Dumbledore smiled at her – his first true smile of the evening.  "That seems like a very good answer to me.  Perhaps the only answer."

They sat in silence for a while, bathed in the light of the flames.  Then Luna yawned.

"Perhaps you should go to bed."

"Can't I sleep here?"

"The portraits will worry about you if you don't return to Ravenclaw tower," Dumbledore reminded her gently.

Luna reluctantly uncurled herself from the chair and stood.  Leaning over, she kissed the still seated wizard on the brow.  

He looked up, startled.  "You don't do that very often anymore."

"Harry is my friend," Luna said simply.  "Knowing you love him too makes me happy."

Dumbledore cupped her face with gentle hands and placed a soft kiss on Luna's forehead.  "I love you as well."

"I know."  Luna's smile was brighter than the fire, and filled Dumbledore with a happier warmth.  She danced over to the door and stood expectantly.

He knew the ritual.  "Sleep you well, Luna, my moonchild."

"Sleep you well, Grandfather."  And she danced out into the staircase and down to her bed in Ravenclaw tower.


End file.
